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“President Duncan,” he begins. “Since when are we in the business of protecting terrorists?”
accurate?” “I’ve already answered your question.” “No, Mr. President, you haven’t. You’re aware that the French newspaper Le Monde published
“My answer is the same,” I say. God, I sound like an ass. Worse yet, I sound like a lawyer.
whack a stick at me, hoping a bunch of classified information and political miscues will
“You’re shaking your head no, Mr. President. Just to be clear: you are denying that you begged Suliman Cindoruk for mer—” “The United States will never beg anyone for anything,” I say. “Okay, then, you deny Suliman Cindoruk’s claim that you begged—” “The
openers. I already know what he’s going to say anyway. And he already knows that I won’t
2 The
have things to do. I don’t have time for this.
grave
agree?” “Absolutely.” “Then would you also agree that any American citizen who interfered with our ability
Not according to my White House counsel, who says that the section couldn’t apply to the president, that it would be a novel reading of the Espionage Act, and that a president can declassify any information he wants. But
“All I can tell you is that I have always acted with the security of my country in mind. And I always will.” I
say no, unequivocally. But when the Speaker asks you whether you’ve called Suliman Cindoruk, your answer is to invoke ‘executive privilege.’ I think the American people can
expression, though I can imagine a hint of I told ya so in her narrowed eyes. “Congressman Kearns, this is a matter of national security. It’s not a game of gotcha. This is serious business. Whenever you’re ready to ask a serious question, I’ll be happy to answer.” “An American died in that fight in Algeria, Mr. President. An American, a CIA operative named
negotiating with terrorists hasn’t worked out so well?” “I don’t negotiate with terrorists.” “Whatever you want to call it,” he says. “Calling them. Hashing things out with them. Coddling them—” “I don’t coddle—” The
undoubtedly encouraged by the fact that his questions have now firmly found their place under my skin. He is looking at his notes again, at his flowchart of questions and follow-ups, while I try to calm myself. “What’s the toughest decision you’ve made this week, Mr. Kearns? Which bow tie to wear to the hearing? Which side to part your hair for that ridiculous comb-over that
what the rest of the game looks like, then turning that move inside out without having a single clue how much he might be endangering our nation. “Mr. Kearns, I’d like to discuss all my actions with you, but there are national security considerations that just don’t permit it. I know you know that, of course. But I also
time to pass?” “No, sir.”